My Name Is Jimmy And I Do Exist
by possiblycrazee
Summary: How can the team solve a case when the only person who can tell them what happened can't speak? The team discovers things about Jimmy Palmer they never thought possible.
1. Chapter 1

_20 Years Ago_

Eight-year-old Jimmy Palmer ran to catch up to the other boys. The boys weren't his friends and were all at least four years older than him, but his mother said he should get his head out of his books for a change; it was the summer holidays for crying out loud, and had sent him out to play with them. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and pulled his slightly-too-big shorts up his lanky frame.

"Wait up, you guys!"

The three boys ignored him and kept walking. Jake Seeley pulled something out of his backpack and gleefully showed Harry Bowen and Paul West, who oohed and aahhed over it. Breathless, Jimmy caught up to the boys and finally got a look at what they were staring at. A pair of air horns. Jimmy didn't get it, what was so great about an air horn?

"Do not sound near face," Paul read off the air horn's label, "Huh... I wonder why?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno," he said, reading over Paul's shoulder.

"Maybe it's because it's so loud," Jimmy offered.

"No-one asked you, Poindexter," Jake snapped at Jimmy, shoving him out of the way.

Still glaring at Jimmy, Jake's eyes narrowed in speculation, and then darkened with something that made Jimmy slightly nervous.

"Hey, Poindexter, you like science, right?"

"Yeah," Jimmy replied warily.

"Oh, goody. Well, guess what? You just volunteered to be part of our little experiment."

"Huh? What experiment? Guys, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Oh, it's a very good idea. We wanna know why you shouldn't blast this in someone's face. And you're gonna help us."

Jake's face lit up with a malicious glee as Harry and Paul grabbed Jimmy by the arms and kicked the backs of his knees to make him fall. Pinning the lanky, bespectacled boy to the ground, his tormentors laughed as he struggled to free himself. With Harry holding his left arm down and Paul holding his right, Jimmy had nowhere to go as Jake stood over him with both air horns. Placing an air horn up against each ear, Jake grinned nastily down at Jimmy.

"Don't worry, Poindexter, you'll be doing your bit for science."

With these horrible words ringing in his ears, Jimmy Palmer watched in horror as Jake pulled the air horn's triggers. A cacophony of noise and pain assaulted Jimmy and squeezed his head like a vice. He could hear the long, loud blasts of the air horns and another high pitched keening sound that he belatedly recognized as his own screams of pain. Waves of pain and noise washed over Jimmy until his tiny, eight-year-old body couldn't take any more and Jimmy sank into the blessed relief of unconsciousness.

_10 years ago_

Eighteen-year-old Jimmy Palmer fidgeted nervously in his chair. This was torture, plain and simple. How could they expect him to just sit here and wait? This was his future for crying out loud.

"James Andrew Palmer."

Jimmy took a deep breath and walked into the office in front of him, trying unsuccessfully not to show his nervousness. He stopped in front of the desk, looking slightly confused. He had expected an interview with just the Dean of the college. But there were two people behind the desk. A fat, balding man that Jimmy knew to be the Dean and a tall, dark-haired woman that Jimmy didn't recognize. The Dean turned to the dark-haired woman and spoke.

"Have a seat, James."

The woman's hands moved in slow gestures. Sign language. The woman was a deaf interpreter. Jimmy sighed. This was going to be a long day. Turning to the woman, Jimmy's hands moved in rapid gestures. The woman looked surprised, but nodded and signed something back.

The Dean looked confused, "Well, what did he say?" he asked the woman.

The interpreter and Jimmy shared a look before Jimmy spoke, startling the Dean.

"I said, 'Thank you for coming down here, even though you weren't needed. I'm only partially deaf and can talk perfectly.'"

Two hours and a serious headache later, Jimmy walked out of the Dean's office with a bounce in his step. He was going to medical school!

_Present _

"Mr. Palmer, could you run these samples up to Abby, please?"

"Sure, Doctor, but, um... do you mind if I stay up there for a while and chat?"

"Well, Mr. Palmer, we are very busy..."

"So... that's a no, then..."

"Yes, that's a no, Mr. Palmer."

"Oh, ok, um, sorry Doctor Mallard, the accent kinda threw me, that's all."

Jimmy Palmer picked up the tray of samples to be taken to the Goth forensic scientist and scurried out of the morgue. Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard shot his lab assistant's retreating back a flat look. Turning back to the corpse on his table, Ducky picked up his scalpel and prepared to make the 'Y' incision, talking to the dead marine as he did so.

Realizing he had forgotten the evidence transfer forms, Jimmy Palmer swore under his breath and headed back to the morgue. He pushed open the door to the office and searched through the filing cabinet. Hearing a muffled voice, he looked up and saw Ducky talking to the corpse. He shook his head, after 9 months, he still didn't know whether the habit the doctor had of talking to the bodies was disturbing or endearing. Grabbing the forms and his samples he headed back out to the lab.

Jimmy rubbed his ears absently, they were bad today. Well, with only 50 hearing in one ear and 40 in the other, they were bad every day, but they were worse than usual today. He was relying more and more on lip-reading than actually hearing the conversations going on around him. There! He could've sworn he heard his name. He turned back to the morgue to see if the Doctor was talking to him. No, the Doctor was still talking to the corpse. But... Jimmy frowned and tilted his head to the side, watching the Doctor's face.

"Mr. Palmer is a nice enough young man," Ducky said calmly to the body as he cut into it, "Is it terribly wrong of me to want Gerald back here? Mr. Palmer could be good if he were a bit more confident. But, so help me, sometimes I just want to slap him."

Outside the glass doors of the NCIS morgue, Jimmy Palmer's face fell.


	2. Chapter 2

_CHAPTER TWO_

Ducky watched his young lab assistant out of the corner of his eye as he placed his bags in the van. Jimmy Palmer sat quietly, his head bowed and his glasses in his hand, in the passenger seat of the coroner's van. The dark bags under his eyes suggested to Ducky that the young man hadn't slept well for some time. The British ME was starting to worry, he'd never seen Jimmy like this before, it wasn't affecting his work, but still... the poor boy just looked so lost. Ducky sighed, got into the van and pulled out of NCIS, following the screeching tires that he knew was Gibbs and his team.

Pulling up at the military base, Ducky flashed his ID and was waved through. The 90 minute journey to the crime scene had been spent in an awkward silence. Ducky had tried a few times to draw Jimmy into a conversation, but to no avail. Sighing, Ducky hauled his bags out of the van, sidestepping slightly so Palmer could retrieve his bags. The two medics made their way in silence over to where Gibbs was standing, looking impatient.

"Took you long enough," Gibbs barked grumpily.

"Hello Jethro. Why yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking."

Gibbs just raised one silver eyebrow, giving the rambling ME a flat look. Tony, Kate and McGee all hid smiles. Ducky was about the only person on this earth who could get away with talking to Gibbs like that. Ducky returned the look with one of his own, dropped his bags by Gibbs' feet and ducked under the crime scene tape.

"Whom do we have here?" Ducky asked of the gruff ex-Marine.

"Petty Officer Daniel Souza. Didn't report back from shore leave. According to his CO he's never done that before. Corps buddies reported him missing 2 days ago. No wife or kids. Dinozzo, bag and tag. Kate, sketches. McGee, measurements."

The three Special Agents, clipboards and PDA's in hand, moved off to their respective tasks. Beckoning Jimmy over to him, Ducky bent down and began his examination of the body. Jimmy moved over to Ducky without a word, took out his clipboard and pen and waited silently for Ducky to speak.

"Petty Officer Daniel Souza. Signs of asphyxia, hemorrhaging in the eyes, generalized cyanosis, pronounced cyanosis around the mouth and nose, visible bruising across esophagus suggests strangulation…"

Jimmy turned sharply as Tony let out a startled yelp. A wide-eyed woman with shoulder length black hair lunged past him and took off running. Tony took off after her, catching up with her quickly and spinning her around.

"What are you doing in my crime scene?"

The black-haired woman said nothing, staring up at Tony with huge eyes. Her hands shifted twitchily as she watched Tony. Jimmy stared. Did she just...? Jimmy got up, picking up his bags, and walked over to where Tony was holding the woman's arm, ignoring Ducky completely as he was told to come back and finish with the body. The woman's hands shifted again and Ducky's eyes widened in comprehension. She used sign language. Jimmy recognized it; he must use sign language too.

With that realization, the last piece of the puzzle dropped into place. Ducky now understood everything that had happened over the past couple of days. The need to be able to see the person he was talking to, his reluctance to answer the phone, his lack of confidence, his need to always double check. Jimmy's words from a few days back came to Ducky, 'Sorry Doctor Mallard, the accent kinda threw me, that's all.' Jimmy Palmer was at least partially deaf. 'But, so help me, sometimes I just want to slap him.' Ducky's own words from a few days ago floated through his head, and he winced. No wonder the poor boy had been so quiet these past few days. Imagine hearing those words from someone you considered a mentor.

As Jimmy walked over, he saw the black-haired woman narrow steel-grey eyes at Tony, then slowly raise her hands and make a questioning gesture with them. Tony looked at her in confusion, and then understanding dawned as the proverbial light bulb went on above his head.

"Sign language? Great, just great. Our one witness and she can't tell me what she saw. She can't even hear what I'm saying."

"What was that, Dinozzo?" Gibbs asked as he walked over with McGee.

"Possible witness, Boss. Only problem, she's deaf and she can't speak."

The black-haired woman's eyes flashed with anger. Her hands moved rapidly, almost too fast for Jimmy to understand.

_'I can hear you perfectly. So go boil your head, you arrogant bastard. I'm mute, not deaf.'_

Jimmy snickered helplessly. He put a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter but it was too late. Everyone, including the black-haired woman and Tony turned to look at him. Reflected in Tony's eyes was a mixture of confusion and anger. The black-haired woman's eyes, however, were narrowed in speculation. Her hands moved again, slower this time.

_'You understand sign language?'_

Jimmy nodded, fighting the urge to grin at the look of pure bewilderment on Tony and McGee's faces. He put down his bag and brought his own hands up, signing as he spoke.

"So, you aren't deaf? You're mute?"

The woman nodded, shooting a glare at Tony. Tony's jaw dropped. He stared at Jimmy in shock. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony, then turned and spoke to Jimmy.

"Palmer, you know sign language?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think you could interpret for the young lady?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Good," Gibbs finished, before turning to the black-haired woman, "Ma'am, would you mind coming with us down to NCIS so we can ask you a few questions about what you saw?"

The woman nodded at Gibbs, then turned and signed something to Jimmy, who smiled and signed along as he spoke.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Jimmy Palmer."

Turning to the others, Jimmy said, "She says her name is Leah Hillborn, and can you not call her Ma'am, it makes her feel old."


End file.
